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copyright DEPOSIT. 




•Boston 
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fLIB5*»«*v ->* CONGRESS 
Two Annies Received 

SEP 15 1904 

Ooovrfjfht Entry 
CLASS ^XXo.Na 
' COPY B 



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ITirsl ©ay. 

A poem every flower is, 
And every leaf a line, 
And with delicious memories 
They fill this heart 
of mine: 
No living blossoms are 
so clear 
As these dead relics 
treasured here. 

Flowers. 




Second 23ay. 




HY should we ever weary of this 

life? 
Our souls should widen ever, 
not contract, 
Grow stronger, and not harder, in 
the strife, 
Filling each moment with a noble act. Sonnets. 



Where is the true man's fatherland? 
Is it where he by chance is horn? 

Does not the yearning spirit scorn 
In such scant borders to be spanned? 

O, yes! his fatherland must be 
As the blue heaven wide and free ! 

Is it alone where freedom is, 

Where G-od is God and man is man ? 
Does he not claim a broader i span 

For the soul's love of home than this? 
O, yes ! his fatherland must be 

As the blue heaven wide and free. 

The Fatherland. 



Third ©ay. 




HE sand is so smooth, 

the yellow sand, 
That thy keel will not grate as it 
touches the land 
All around with a slumberous sound 
The singing waves slide up the 
strand, 
And there, where the smooth, 

wet pebbles be, 
The waters gurgle longingly 
As if they fain would seek the shore, 

To be at rest from the ceaseless roar, 
To be at rest forevermore,— 

Forevermore. 



Thus on Life's gloomy sea, 

Heareth the marinere 

Voices sweet, from far and near, 

Ever singing in his ear, 
"Here is rest and peace for thee." 

^he Sirens. 




'Fourth ©ay, 



: ^ Our fathers fought for Liberty, 

They struggled long and well, 
History of their deeds can tell — 
But did they leave us free? 

Are we free from vanity, 
Free from pride and free from self, 
Free from love of power and pelf, 

From everything that's beggarly? 

Are we free from stubborn will, 
From low hate and malice small, 
From Opinion's tyrant thrall? 
Are none of us our own 
slaves still? 
***** 

Our fathers fought for 
liberty, 
They struggled long and /m 

well, 
History of their deeds can 

tell- 
But ourselves must set us 

f re e . Fourth of £July 0de 




ITiftH 9aq 




IFT up the curtains of thine eyes 
And let their light outshine ! 
Let me adore the mysteries 

Of those mild orbs of thine, 
Which ever queenly calm do roll, 

Attuned to an ordered soul! 



The night is calm and "beautiful, the snow 

Sparkles beneath the clear and frosty moon 
And the cold stars, as if it took delight 

In its own silent whiteness; the hushed 
earth 
Sleeps in the soft arms of the embracing blue, 
Secure as if angelic squadrons yet 

Encamped about her, and each 

watching star 
Gained double brightness from the 
flashing arms 
Of winged and unsleeping sentinels. 



die 



St 



Si?dK ©ay. 



One by one great drops are falling" 
Doubtful and slow, 
Down the pane they are crookedly crawling- 
And the wind 

breathes low; 
Slowly the circles widen on 

the river, 

Widen and ming-le, 

one 

and all; 
Here and there 
the slenderer 
flowers 
shiver 
Struck by the 
icy rain-drop's 
fall. 




JVR. 



;>^ 






■B " s# 



Seventh ©ay. ' 




Violet! sweet violet! 
Thine eyes are full of tears; 
Are they wet 
Even yet 
With the thought of other years ? 

Or with gladness are they full, 
For the night so beautiful, 
And longing for those far-off spheres? 

Loved-one of my youth thou wert, 
Of my merry youth, 

And I see, ^ 

Tearfully, 
All the fresh and sunny past, 

All its openness and truth, 
Ever fresh and green in thee 
As the moss is in the sea. 

Song. 



4 



\ 



WW 





Eighth ©ay, 



NACREOK of the meadow, 

Drunk with the joy of spring! 
Beneath the tall pine's voiceful 
shadow 
I lie and drink thy jargoning: 

My soul is full with melodies, 
One drop would overflow it, 

And send the tears into 

mine eyes — 
But what car' st thou to know it? 

The JSoboIink. 



Tis good to he abroad in the sun, 

His gifts abide when day is done; 
Each thing in nature from his cup 

Gathers a several virtue up; 
The grace within its being's reach 

Becomes the nutriment of each, 
And the same life imbibed by all 

Makes each most individual. 

&ut of ®oors. 




IKiatH 9ay. 



There's a haven of sure rest 
From the loud world's bewildering 
stress, 
As a bird dreaming on her nest, 

As dew hid in a rose's breast, 
As Hesper in the glowing West; 

So the heart sleeps 
In thy calm deeps, 
Serene Forgetfulness ! 

Forget fulness. 




Tenth 9aH- 



OOD were the days of yore when 
men were tried. 
By ring of shields, as now by 
ring of gold. 
But, while the gods are left, and 
hearts of men, 
And the free ocean, still the days are good; 
Through the broad Earth roams Opportunity 
And knocks at every door of hut or hall 
Until she finds the brave soul that she wants! 

JHfakon's Lay. 

True Love is but a hum Die, low-born thing, 

And has its food served up in earthen ware; 
It is a thing to walk with, hand in hand, 
Through the every-dayness of this work-day world, 

Baring its tender feet to every roughness, 
Yet letting not one heart-beat go astray 

From Beauty's law of plainness and content, 
A simple, fireside thing, whose quiet smile 

Can warm earth's poorest hovel to a home. 

Love. 




JLleventH 23ay. 



And yet— and yet— 

O selfish love! 
I am not happy 

even with thee; 
I see thee in thy "brightness 
move, 
And cannot well contented be, 

Save thou should'st shine 
alone for me. 

Something dZatural. 



And Love is gone;— 

I have seen him come, 
I have seen him, too, 
depart, 
Leaving desolate his 
home, 
His bright home in 
my heart. 
I am alone ! 

The departed. 




Twelfth 9ay. 



TO tlie sunshine, 

Full of the light, 
Leaping and flashing 

From morn till night! 



Into the moonlight, 

Whiter than snow, 
Waving so flower-like 

When the winds blow! 



Into the starlight, 

Rushing in spray, 
Happy at midnight, 

Happy by day. 



Glorious fountain! 

Let my heart he 

Fresh, changeful, constant, 

Upward like thee! 

The Fountain. 




Xairteeath 23ay 



What dotli the poor man's son inherit? 

Stout muscles and a sinewy heart; 
A hardy frame, a hardier spirit; 

King of two hands, he does his part 
In every useful toil and art; 
A heritage, it seems to me, 

A king might wish to hold in fee. 

Thejieritage. 




rourteeath iBay, 



AIR as a single star thou shinest, 
And white as lilies are, 
The slender hands wherewith thou 
twinest 
Thy heavy auburn hair; 

Thou art to me 
A memory 
Of all that is divinest. 

Farewell. 



* * * The soul, for sunshine made, 
Grows wan and gracile in the shade, 

Her faculties, which God decreed 

Various as Summer's daedal breed, 
With one sad color are imbued, 

Shut from the sun that tints their blood. 

Out of Qboors. 

Why mourn we for the golden prime 
When our young souls were kingly, strong and true? 
The soul is greater than all time, 
It changes not, but yet is ever new. Sphinx. 




pifteeatK ©ay, 



E seemed a cherub who had lost 
his way 
And wandered hither, so his stay 
With ns was short, and 't was 
most meet 
That he should be no delver in earth's clod 

]STor need to pause and cleanse his feet 
To stand before his God: 

O blest word — Evermore! 

Threnodia. 



Her's is a spirit deep, and crystal-clear, 

Calmly beneath her earnest face it lies, 
Free without boldness, meek without a fear, 
Quicker to look than speak its 
sympathies ; 
For down into her large and patient eyes 
I gaze, deep drinking- of the infinite; 

As, in the mid-watch of a clear, still night, 
I look into the fathomless blue skies. 



^OipcteeatK 




A little of thy 

steadfastness, 
Rounded with leafy 

gracefulness, 
Old oak, 

give me,— 
That the world's 
blasts may 
round me blow, 
And I yield gently to and fro, 
While my stout-hearted trunk below 

And firm-set roots unshaken be. 

The JBeggat 




IDevertteeath ©ay. 



OMETIMES she dons a robe of green, 

Sometimes a robe of snowy white, 
But, in whatever garb she's seen 

It seems most beautiful and right, 
And is the loveliest to my sight. 

The Lover. 

There is not in this life of ours 

One bliss unmixed with fears, 
The hope that wakes our deepest powers 
A face of sadness wears, 
And the dew that showers our dearest flowers 
Is the bitter dew of tears. 



Yet would the true soul rather choose 
Its home where sorrow is, 

Than in a sated peace to lose 
Its life's supremest bliss — 

The rainbow hues that bend profuse 
O'er cloudy spheres like this. 

in Sadness. 








^eighteenth ©ay. 

And what is so rare as a 
day in June ? 
Then, if ever, come perfect 
days; 
Then Heaven tries the 

earth if it be in 
tune, 
And over it softly her 
warm ear lays: 
Whether we look, or whether we listen, 

We hear life murmur, or see it glisten ; 
Every clod feels a stir of might, 
An instinct within it that 
reaches and 

towers, 
And, groping blindly above it 
for light, 
Climbs to a soul 

in grass and 
flowers. 

The Vision of 

Sir La unfa I. 



i ' -? i - iF'- : - -'■'■ 





JXiaeteerith x^ay. 



OW is tlie high-tide of the year, 
And whatever of life has eh bed away 
Comes flooding- hack with a 
ripply cheer, 
Into every hare inlet, and creek, and 
hay; 
Now the heart is so full that a drop 
overfills it, 
We are happy now because God wills it; 

No matter how barren the past may have been, 
'Tis enough for us now that the leaves are green ; 

We sit in the warm shade and feel right well 
How the sap creeps up and the blossoms swell. 

The Vision of Sir Launfal. 

What heed I if the sky be blue? 

So are thy holy eyes, 
And bright with shadows ever new 

Of changeful sympathies, 
Which in thy soul's unruffled deep 

Rest evermore, but never sleep. 




Twentieth 
©a 3 . 



Knowledge doth 
only 
widen love; 
The stream, that 
lone and 
narrow rose, 
Doth, deepening 
ever, onward move, 
And with an even current flows 
Calmer and calmer to the close. 

Love's oAliar. 



Yet bracing up our bruised mail the while, 
And fronting the old foe with fresher spirit. 
How great it is to breathe with human breath, 
To be but poor foot-soldiers in the ranks 

Of our old exiled king, Humanity 
Encamping after every hard-won field 

Nearer and near Heaven's happy plains. 



du 



ew &tear s 




Twenty =first ©ay. 



Th 

I see, 



O more my spirit can be shaken 

From its calm and kingly rest! 
Love hath shed its light around me, 
Love hath pierced the shades 
that bound me; 
Mine eyes are opened, I can see 
The universe's mystery, 
e mighty heart and core 

Of After and Before 
and I am weak no more! JBellercphan. 



To write some earnest verse or line, 

Which, seeking" not the praise of art, 
Shall make a clearer faith and manhood shine 
In the untutored heart. 



He who doth this, in verse or prose, 

May be forgotten in his day, 
But surely shall be crowned at last with those 
Who live and speak for aye. 

<>An Incident in a Railroad (Bar. 




'Twenty =second 
©euj- 

Gentle, Lady, be thy 
sleeping-, 
Peaceful may thy 
dreamings 
be, 
While around thy 
/ soul is sweeping, 

Dreamy- winged, 

our 
\ s~**J melody, 



7\ 



C 



^ Chant we, 
Brothers, 




\J 
sad and slow, 



Let our 
song be soft and low 
As the voice of 

other years. 

Vhe Serenade. 




Xweatij -third ©ay. 



EAUTY is Love and what we love 
Straightway is beautiful, 
So is the circle round and full, 
And so dear Love doth live and 
move 
And have his being-. 

JBellerophon. 



God bless the Present! it is ALL; 

It has been Future, and it shall be Past; 
Awake and live! thy strength recall, 

And in one trinity unite them fast. 

Sphinx. 

G-o little book! the world is wide, 
There's room and verge enough for thee; 

For thou hast learned that only pride 
Lacketh fit opportunity, 
Which comes unbid to modesty. 

Soe, Little J3oo/ce. 



Twenty -fourth ©ay. 

God scatters love on every side 
Freely among his 

children all 
And always hearts are lying 
open wide, 
Wherein some grains 




may fall. 

There is no wind 

but soweth seeds 
Of a more 
true and open 
life, 
Which burst, 

unlooked-for, into 
high-souled deeds, 

With wayside beauty 
rife. 

oAn incident in a Railroad (Bar 



^3? 




Tw-erity-fiftH ©ay. 



NE seed contains another seed, 

And that a third, and so 
forever more; 
And promise of as great a deed 

Lies folded in the deed that went 
before. Sphinx. 

The flush of life may well be seen 

Thrilling back over hills and valleys; 

The cowslip startles in meadows green, 
The buttercup catches the sun in its chalice, 
And there's never a leaf nor a blade too mean 

To be some happy creature's palace; 
The little bird sits at his door in the sun, 
Atilt like a blossom among the leaves, 
And lets his illumined being o'errun 

With the deluge of summer it receives; 
His mate feels the eggs beneath her wings 
And the heart in her dumb breast flutters and 
sings ; 
He sings to the wide world, and she to her nest- 
In the nice ear of Nature which song is the 

best. . The Vision of Sir haunfal. 




Twenty =3i?ciH 
9ay. 



Now in a fairy "boat, 
On the bright 
waves 

of song, 
-v^. Full merrily 

I float, 
Merrily float 

along ; 
My helm is veered, 
I care not how, 
T'My white sail 

bellies over me, 
And bright as gold 

the ripples be 
That splash beneath the bow; 
Before, behind, 

They feel the wind 
And they are dancing joyously. ffluaic 



xweaiy-severith ©ay. 

Out on it! no foolish pining 
For the sky 
Dims thine eye, 
Or for the stars so calmly shining; 
Like thee, let this sonl of mine 

Take hue from that wherefor I long, 

Self-stayed and high, serene and strong, 
Not satisfied with hoping — hut divine. 
Violet ! dear violet ! 
Thy blue eyes are only wet 
With joy and love of him who sent thee, 
And for the fulfilling sense 

Of that glad obedience 
Which made thee all that Nature meant thee ! 

Song. 





Tweatij-eigKtK ©ay. 



USSSING she is : God made her so, 
And deeds of week-day 
holiness 
Fall from her noiseless as the 
snow, 
For hath she ever chanced to 
know 
That aught were easier than to bless. 

My Love. 

I know a falcon swift and peerless 

As e'er was cradled in the pine; 
No "bird had ever eye so fearless, 

Or wings so strong as this of mine. 



Let fraud and wrong and baseness shiver, 

For still between them and the sky 
The falcon Truth hangs poised forever 

And marks them with his vengeful eye. 

The Falcon. 



Xweaty=airttK ©ay. 

The thousand little 
things that love 
doth treasure up 
for aye, 
And brood upon with 
moistened eyes when 

she that's loved's away, 
The word, the look, the 

smile, the blush, 
the ribbon that she wore, 
ach day they grow more dear to me, 

and pain me more and more. 

Song. 

I love thee for that thou art fair; 

And that thy spirit joys in aught 
Createth a new beauty there, 

With thine own dearest image fraught; 
And love, for others' sake 

that springs, 
Gives half their charm to lovely things. 

impartiality. 




Thirtieth 9atj. 




IPS may fade and roses wither, 
All sweet times be o'er— 
They only smile, and, murmuring 
" Thither!" 
Stay with us no more: 
And yet ofttimes a look or smile, 
Forgotten in a kiss's while, 
Years after from the dark will start, 

And flash across the trembling 1 heart. 

The Token. 



Thou mad'st me happy with thine eyes, 

And happy with thine open smile, 
And, as I write, sweet memories 

Come thronging round me all the while ; 
Thou mad'st me happy with thine eyes — 
And gentle feelings long forgot 

Looked up and oped their eyes, 
Like violets when they see a spot 
Of summer in the skies. 

To S. W 8. 




^Hirt^first 9ay. 



EAVEN help me! how could. I forget 
To beg- of thee, dear violet! 

Some of thy modesty, 
That blossoms here as well unseen, 
As if before the world thou'dst been, 
O, give, to strengthen me. 

I 1 he JBeggar. 

Thine is music such as yields 

Feelings of old brooks and fields, 

And around this pent-up room, 
Sheds a woodland, free perfume,: 

O, thus forever sing to me ! 

O, thUS forever! To^perdita, Singing. 

O wild and wondrous midnight, 

There is a might in thee 
To make the charmed body 

Almost like spirit be, 
And give it some faint glimpses 
Of immortality ! Midnight 



sep 15 saw 



